Now she parted the
bushes and looked down. A stone fell as she looked, making a sepulchral
echo. What a place to hide one's sorrow in! No one would think of
looking there. Antony might think she had gone away, or he might drag
the three black ponds, but here it was unlikely any one would come. And
in a little while--a very little while--Antony would forget, or
sometimes make himself happy with his unhappiness.
Ah! but Wonder! No, if Antony needed her no more, Wonder did. She must
stay for Wonder's sake. And perhaps, who could say, Antony might yet
need her, might come to her some day and say "Beatrice," with the old
voice. To be really necessary to Antony again, if only for one little
hour,--yes! she could wait and suffer for that.
CHAPTER XIII
THE HUMAN SACRIFICE
The valley was an ill place even for the body, a lair of rheums and
agues; and disembodied fevers waited in wells for the sunk pail. For the
valley was very beautiful, beautiful with that green beauty that only
comes of damp and decay.
Late one October night, Antony, alone with Silencieux, as was now again
his custom, was surprised to hear footsteps coming hastily up the wood,
and even more surprised at the sudden unusual appearance of Beatrice.
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